


against all of you

by djhedy



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Graduation, M/M, Post-Canon, Sex, That's it that's the plot, andrew is leaving, oh no, says andrew too, says neil, sex happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26875618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djhedy/pseuds/djhedy
Summary: If Neil thinks about it logically, he has good reasons for not wanting Andrew to leave. Andrew owns the Maserati, the house in Columbia: two things Neil is losing now that the cousins have graduated.They’re smoking on top of the roof, legs dangling off and one of Neil’s ankles crossed with Andrew’s, and Andrew says, “Hey.”Neil looks sideways at him, dragging on his cigarette, blows it in his face and says, “Yeah?”-post-canon, 'we're about to say goodbye and i don't want you to leave' sexsweet and tender and not at all kinky
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 28
Kudos: 440





	against all of you

**Author's Note:**

> welp, i said to myself i said, "it's my birthday, what do we want to do, self?" and i said i said, "anything?" and i said "yes self it's my birthday!"
> 
> so i wrote some smut  
> smirk party-face sunglasses emoji  
> xxx

If Neil thinks about it logically, he has good reasons for not wanting Andrew to leave. Andrew owns the Maserati, the house in Columbia: two things Neil is losing now that the cousins have graduated. Andrew will take the Maserati with him on the long drive to Boston, and Nicky will sell the house. They won’t need it anymore.

And his goalies, Robin and Charlie, and the new kid, Rebecca – they’re good, and they belong on a Class 1 team, Neil is sure of it; but they’re not Andrew-good. No one is, and that makes Neil stressed to the bones, writing plays with Wymack and Robin, all of them determined to prove Andrew wasn’t the only reason they won two championships, a small voice in the back of his head whispering _but what if he was?_

They’re smoking on top of the roof, legs dangling off and one of Neil’s ankles crossed with Andrew’s, and Andrew says, “Hey.”

Neil looks sideways at him, dragging on his cigarette, blows it in his face and says, “Yeah?”

Andrew gives him a look for the cigarette smoke, and then looks away, beautiful and contemplative and Neil looks away too, determined not to get caught smiling at him.

Andrew says, “It’s a 14 hour drive to Boston.”

Neil nods. He knows this. He spent yesterday afternoon in the library googling it.

“I will have to wake up early to leave.”

Neil nods again, and fidgets. “Ok,” he says.

They haven’t talked much about this. A lot of what Neil likes about _them_ is the stuff that goes unspoken. It’s what the others don’t understand about how they work. But Neil _likes_ the way they work. Likes Andrew. But it means they haven’t really acknowledged that Andrew is – leaving.

Andrew taps the heel of his shoe against Neil’s bare ankle and says, “You can come visit me, you know.”

Neil straightens a little and stumps out his cigarette, feeling a little nauseous suddenly. “Like you can stop me.”

When he looks at Andrew, Andrew is smiling, face still tilted towards the sky, but looking smug somehow. Neil grins and kisses the side of his face, just to get Andrew to look at him, and then he kisses him, and this is why they don’t need words. Neil knows they want the same thing, and they both know what it’s like to have to work for the things you want.

In between kissing Andrew says into his mouth, “Mm. Come on.”

Neil laughs against Andrew. “What about your goodbye party.”

“So we won’t go.”

“Nicky made me promise.”

Andrew gives him an unimpressed look for that. “Fine. Then you go. I’ll go back to the dorm by myself.”

Neil raises his eyebrows, and squeezes Andrew’s hand in his. “We already did this yesterday.”

Andrew smirks at him. “Did what?”

_Dorm to themselves. Roommates locked out. Favourite movie. Favourite ice cream. Favourite take out. Andrew laying between Neil’s legs on the couch, head against his chest, Neil in turns the happiest and saddest he’s ever felt. When Andrew got bored and Neil got restless, Andrew fucking Neil over the arm of the couch, and afterwards holding each other quiet and still in bed and no words, no words, just them._

Neil smirks. “You know. The whole. Thing.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow and says, “No one told me the schedule. I didn’t agree to only doing that once.” He kisses Neil on the jaw, on the cheek, on his lips, and Neil sighs, his stomach and chest full and tight and overwhelming.

He swallows down the feeling and says, “I guess we can be late.”

Andrew tugs him to his feet, and they wrap their arms around each other, and Neil doesn’t want to let him go.

But he’s forced to, because Andrew pulls away, and taps a finger against his jaw, and says, “On the other hand...”

Neil throws his arms up in the air.

They go to the party. It’s in the basement. Foxes are there, Vixens are there, a few of Aaron and Nicky’s classmates. At one point some of the retired Foxes skype in, sitting on a laptop in the corner, something between wishing the cousins’ their congratulations and threatening them with violence if they don’t visit soon.

Neil watches it all through a slight haze.

Aaron comes up to him at one point and says, “I haven’t finished packing.”

Neil smirks. “Why am I not surprised.”

Aaron points at Katelyn, whose arms are folded, and says, “Katelyn’s gonna help but I gotta go.”

“Yeah ok,” Neil says, and they hug, but it’s brief, and Aaron thumps him on the shoulder, and then he leaves, and Neil and Katelyn wave at each other from opposite sides of the room, and just like that Neil probably won’t see them again until Christmas.

Nicky’s goodbye is much slower – and it can be; he’s not leaving tomorrow, he’s staying for another week to finish packing the Columbia house, to spend quality time with Wymack and Abby and Neil, to be sentimental. Neil doesn’t mind. Has even offered to help out with the house, noticed the gleam in Nicky’s eyes when he quickly accepted.

But Andrew’s leaving. First thing in the morning.

And it’s only 9pm, but Neil goes to find him talking with Robin, and tugs on his hand, and they make 5am pancake breakfast plans with Robin and Charlie, and then Neil is tugging him out the room and swallowing down every feeling that’s threatening to overspill.

Once the door is closed behind them, and it’s just Neil and Andrew alone, Neil lets every feeling come spilling out.

He pushes his hands under Andrew’s sweatshirt and says, “This is mine,” pulling it off and trying to chuck it over to his dresser.

But Andrew fists a hand in it, halts its movement, and says, “Since when,” throwing it instead on top of his suitcase and kissing Neil thoroughly, and Neil pushes hands under his tank top and feels his chest, fingers skating round to his back, feeling Andrew moving beneath him, tasting him in his mouth, Andrew’s own hands playing at Neil’s neck, his lower back, moving over the curve of his ass. Andrew says, “I’m fucking you, yes?” and Neil nods, and grins, and Andrew pushes him onto the bed.

Neil thought at one point he would get used to this, that it would stop feeling so overwhelming, but it never has. The sex is ritual at this point, it’s one of the many things he likes about his life, about Andrew, like practising together or eating together or going out with the foxes together; it’s ritual, and he thought that would make it less special, but somehow it doesn’t. If anything it feels _more_.

He tells Andrew this. Tells him by slowing down. By nipping his lips with his own, by making Andrew work for more. Andrew doesn’t though. Says, _yeah_ , in the way that he kisses him back just as slowly, letting their lips be the only point of contact while Andrew holds himself up over Neil, clothes still on and no one in any rush for this to be over.

But Neil gets impatient, wants more, wants to tell him, _this is so much and too much and never enough_ , tugs at Andrew’s shirt and Andrew leans back to pull it over his head, pulls at the hem of Neil’s hoody, and Neil sits up to rip it off, watches the pleased expression on Andrew’s face when he notices Neil isn’t wearing a shirt underneath, Andrew’s head immediately ducking to Neil’s chest to kiss him, to lick over his nipples, and Neil just grips Andrew’s hair and lays back down.

Andrew kisses lower, nose nudging at the tops of Neil’s jeans, and Neil lifts his hips, and Andrew sits up, impatient too, his movements clumsy as they speed up, unzipping Neil and gripping him, teasing, brief, tugging his jeans now as Neil gasps and holds in his breath, as his boxers go too, and then he’s lying naked on the bed beneath Andrew, beneath his gaze and his hands and his ministrations.

Andrew’s hands are everywhere and not enough. Neil wants to be felt _everywhere_. His hips, and his waist, and then a hand running down his leg, and Andrew’s lips on his the whole time, eyes closed and everything _Andrew_.

Neil bucks up a little against him, says, _this is so much and too much and never enough_ , frowning, tense as he feels Andrew’s fingers graze against him as he unzips his own jeans, as Neil looks to see Andrew just leaving his flies open as he starts walking his fingers over Neil’s dick, his balls, down, down.

Neil squeezes his eyes shut.

He reaches out a hand and takes Andrew’s, squeezes his palm, says, _you know, this is my favourite bit._

Andrew squeezes back, and snorts, and Neil knows he’s saying, _I know._

Andrew spends time opening him up, and he’s almost conversational about it, fingers slow and unhurried, kissing over his chest and at one point just propped up on an elbow watching Neil’s face as Neil in turns tries not to give Andrew what he wants, trying to stay composed and quiet, and in the next breath scrunches his face up, groans, pulls Andrew down by the neck, and says, _fuck me please_.

Andrew removes his fingers and uses that hand to tilt Neil’s chin to where he wants it, so he can look at him, smile, and say, _well if you insist._

They don’t use condoms anymore. It was a big-deal thing. Or at least, to Andrew it was. To Neil, everything with Andrew is the same. It’s a big deal, he supposes, because it’s _Andrew_. But it’s also just everything he wants. Andrew’s bad days, his past, his good days, the time he spends with Neil, the time they spend apart. Neil wants it all, has never resented the extra time it’s taken Andrew to take new steps with him. Condoms was a difficult one, for reasons Andrew could never fully express, and Neil didn’t need him to. He knew no one in Andrew’s past had bothered with them, that they were important to Andrew for that reason.

But this is the present. And Andrew is so different. And so brave. Neil kisses him now, waiting, expectant, thinking, _you’re so beautiful,_ marvelling in the trust Andrew’s given him, in the weightiness of the fact that they don’t feel the need to use condoms anymore.

They’re clean. They’re them. This is it, for both of them.

And Neil wants to feel _all_ of him.

He rises up a little now, body bucking untethered as Andrew starts pushing inside him. Neil almost mutters but he bites his lip instead, screwing up his face as Andrew starts filling him up. Neil grips Andrew’s shoulders, pulls him close so he can bury his head in his neck, and Andrew nuzzles him back, and they just stay there for a moment, and when Neil’s breath starts filling out over his body again, he kisses Andrew once on the shoulder and Andrew starts moving.

Neil’s hands almost scrabble for purchase, feeling blissed out almost immediately, eyes closing against his will and keeping Andrew close so he can breathe him in, pant against his skin, kiss him anywhere he can reach; he feels out a hand and Andrew grips it, and pulls it to his lips, and Neil opens his eyes in time to watch Andrew kiss his knuckles. Neil grips his face in both hands and holds him close and just presses to the side of Andrew’s face, and just _feels_ him for a while.

It’s always variable, how long they take to get there. It’s not always together, and Neil doesn’t always come; but he always loves it.

Neil kisses the side of his face, and something changes in Andrew. He pulls his head away and glares at Neil, frowning, and his thrusts become faster, and Neil glares back at him and pulls him in for a kiss, and says, _you’re not the only one who’s angry about losing this_ , and Andrew pulls one hand up from the mattress and pushes it into Neil’s hair and holds on and pushes into him over and over again and his skin shudders against Neil’s, and Neil’s heart breaks with every _No_ that Andrew’s body communicates.

Neil agrees.

This fucking sucks.

But Andrew doesn’t. Not this. Not right now. He lets Andrew hold onto him, but he also skates a finger down the side of his face, says, _You’re beautiful here_ , and moves his finger down his neck, _and here_ , and over his broad shoulders, _and here_ , and grips his upper arms _, and here,_ and with every move of his hands he feels Andrew tightening and relaxing above him, and their eyes open and they look at each other, and Neil takes Andrew’s anger and surges up and kisses him, and Andrew pushes back and then they’re pushing against each other, and Andrew is fucking him so hard it’s amazing, and Neil giggles breathlessly against Andrew’s mouth, and maybe that’s enough to break the tension, because when he opens his eyes Andrew is smiling, reluctantly, at him, and then he’s holding his face too, and touching his fingers to Neil’s scars,

_all_

_the_

_while_

_pounding_

_him,_

and says, _You’re so beautiful, here_ , and kisses the scars on Neil’s cheekbone, and _here_ , and kisses the one down his opposite cheek, _and here,_ and manoeuvres Neil’s head so he can suck a bruise into the scar across his shoulder, _and fucking here_.

Neil feels oddly comfortable, while his body is used in ways he can only imagine god intended, beneath Andrew, in his favourite place, his prostrate surging almost with every other thrust now, but mostly he just feels breathless and overwhelmed and can’t believe how good Andrew always smells when they’re together like this. He drags his nose over Andrew’s hair and breaths in and Andrew moans against his neck, and then his whole body is clenching, and Neil says, in words, his voice shaky from disuse, “Yes, Andrew,” and Andrew’s moan is long and low and breathy and Neil tilts his face so he can lick into him and swallow him whole.

He feels Andrew inside him, and it’s weird, and hot, and warm, and Neil clenches everything he can to make it better, and drawn out, never wants it to end; but Andrew is usually desperate to get his hands on Neil, and sometimes his mouth, and now is no different, and the second he’s done – even a second before that, pulling desperately out of Neil and Neil bending to look, to see the mess that drips out with him, groaning at the sight – his mouth is over Neil and Neil sucks in a breath and lets his head fall back to the pillow and pets Andrew’s hair a little desperately, fingers curling as he hits the back of Andrew’s mouth, as Andrew’s hand finds his and they link fingers and squeeze each other and Neil says _yes_ , and Andrew says _Yes,_ and Neil comes down his throat, long and hard and stars-bursting and breathless and everywhere and not enough and too much and just _groaning._

Andrew comes up afterwards, like a neighbour who feels like they should check in with someone after they’ve heard a loud noise. Andrew, with his casual face and his, “Hello?” as if Neil’s checked out, as if he’s not sure he’s home.

Neil isn’t entirely sure he’s home. He wiggles in the sheets, pulls Andrew’s face down so that he’s less unacceptably far away, and says, “Hi,” low and quiet and the most he can give, and lets Andrew arrange them so that Neil’s face is in his neck, his legs thrown over Andrew’s, Andrew’s hand resting possessively on Neil’s lower back.

Neil nuzzles him and says, smiling into his neck, “What time are you leaving in the morning?”

Andrew kisses him on the top of his head. “6.”

Neil nods. And leans up for a proper kiss. “Ok.”


End file.
